Soul Crystals
by kyaracandy
Summary: Crossover Akemi Homura/Johan Andersen experimental fic. Homura and Johan go out on a date, but Homura is plagued with past feelings.


A/N: Oh man, I'm sorry this fic is so horrible. My rainbro and I somehow randomly decided to create cute headcanon for a crossover pairing and I started writing about it for kicks, but it turned into some monstrous 2200+ word thing... This was written piece by piece and has no real point and no real characterization but I guess for the sake of posterity, I'll upload it.

inb4 "people will ship anything, won't they?"

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><p>She sat in front of the mirror for almost an hour, brushing every last knot out of her long, dark hair, carefully teasing the shining strands apart from each other. Hesitantly, she layered strands of her hair over each other in a thick, rope-like braid. That wouldn't do. It wasn't quite the impression she wanted to get across. The braid was gone and the wall of black hair was back.<p>

She re-examined herself in the reflective surface. She couldn't help but think the face staring back at her looked so weathered and grim and pale… maybe it was the bangs? Clipping those up onto her head seemed so weird to her. She finally sighed and decided her usual look was probably the best, though she wasn't at all satisfied.

When she saw him waiting outside, she knew he had been there for a while, maybe twenty minutes, and she felt a little guilty. She wasn't used to this sort of thing. What would he think of her? He was probably a little disappointed that he had to wait so long outside. Maybe he had wanted to leave. She wasn't supposed to make him feel that way, right? This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Regardless, her face showed no sign of her mental unrest as she silently stood next to him and stared at the ground.

"Ready to go?"

Wasn't he supposed to comment on how she looked or anything? That was how it was in the movies she used to watch when she was a child. It was always the man who told his date that she looked particularly beautiful that day. But he hadn't said anything about it. She probably failed him again, she realized, though she had to admit she was almost getting used to the daily "how do you style your hair" comments. She gave him a curt nod and strode ahead of him. He'd tire of her eventually.

He followed her for a while. She wasn't sure where they were supposed to go and she couldn't remember the name of the place he was supposed to take her to later, but she supposed she could handle a little bit of walking. It felt too uncomfortable next to him, even though he had been struggling to catch up with her for the past five minutes.

"Homura… wait."

She spun around.

"Is something wrong?"

Why did people always think there was something wrong with her? She shook her head and turned back, but he had caught her hand. A shock flew up her arm, and she almost shook him off, but instead let her hand hang lamely. They were now walking beside each other, Homura's hand loose in his grip, her head turned away from him.

"That's a pretty ribbon you have there."

She couldn't blame him for talking about it so plainly, but it irritated her just a little. She couldn't help but open her mouth and murmur, "My best friend gave it to me."

"Your best friend must be very generous." She chanced a look at his face was surprised to find he wasn't looking at her. He seemed to be gazing off into the distance, a small smile playing on his lips. She stiffened as he turned his eyes toward her and noticed her staring at him.

His voice was gentler, more soothing than before. "I have someone like that too."

Homura stared. "What?"

"Ah… yeah." He grinned a little more widely this time, his bright green eyes showing her the reflection of her own dark and expressionless ones. He went on, his speech just as soft as before. "He would do anything for his friends." He seemed to be encouraged to share more every time he locked his gaze with hers. If she kept looking at him, would he continue to talk? Perhaps this made up for earlier.

"He saved me once. I was taken pretty far away, and he went after me." He scratched his head. "Ah, I guess I'm getting a little too personal already. Sorry about that." He let out a small chuckle.

Not for the first time today, Homura felt uncomfortable. She was never much of a talker to begin with, and while this could hardly be classified as small talk, she was unwilling to share anything. And besides, the only really interesting things about her were things he had no business knowing; of course she could conjure a bazooka, sprout wings, and freely manipulate the flow of time. But that was irrelevant.

But what was relevant? The both of them walked in silence through the scenery, and by then he had let go of her hand.

"What do you usually think about?" he suddenly asked, turning to her. "I mean, I figure if you don't talk much, you have a lot of interesting things to share."

"Not really." She stared straight ahead. She really didn't want to be here, standing next to this person she had only met maybe a month ago, someone who had asked her to accompany him seemingly on a whim. She had a growing suspicion that he was like the majority of people she had met: self-serving, superficial, and quite distracted by her beauty.

"Then…" He seemed to be thinking very hard. "Tell me a little more about your best friend."

Homura felt like she was choking. She owed Madoka at least a mention in this world, but she wasn't sure if this person was worthy of knowing about her. He probably wouldn't understand anyway. "She is the kindest, sweetest, most selfless person I have ever known." There. At least he knew the bare minimum of her greatness.

"Really? I'd like to meet her sometime." He gave her yet another smile. He never seemed to run out of them. "Especially if she's that important to you. She must be an extraordinary person."

"You can't," Homura replied flatly.

"Huh?"

"I said you can't meet her."

"Oh." He blinked a few times. "Okay."

Great. Suddenly it was her fault that things were more awkward than they could have been. She should have just kept her mouth shut about Madoka long enough to last this date.

That was precisely what she did; she sat grimly as they waited for their order of food, ate slowly and silently, stared in random directions as they walked aimlessly throughout the city. Her mind was talkative, though her mouth wasn't. It had been so long since she'd felt so uncomfortable, and she kept wondering how she could have been so thoughtless to have accepted the offer for this date. As she turned her usually calculating gaze toward the boy standing next to her, she deduced that from the way he wasn't looking at her that this just… wasn't going to work out. Maybe she could finally drench that little spark of hope that had appeared in the pit of her stomach just a few days ago, when he had approached her at school and asked her to "accompany" him on the weekend. He didn't even say it was a date.

All she needed was her best friend anyway, right?

Right. Her best friend couldn't even be considered human at this point.

"I'm sorry this date isn't very fun."

Her thoughts shattered when she heard his voice again after walking so long in silence. They were standing together in an elevator, the kind fixed into looming skyscrapers, clear and large and remarkably lonely. Homura had never been into this particular building, but something about it seemed incredibly familiar. She supposed it was an apartment complex of some sort, and immediately she began watching him out of the corner of her eye. She was much stronger than him, than anyone.

"Come on, I'll show you something amazing."

What she expected to be the calm air of a business floor cut and bit at her face with the icy touch of nighttime city gusts. She shivered a little in her thin jacket. Were they actually on the roof of a building? The tops of various sized buildings poked up like a forest of glowing spires. The rush of cars below was about fifteen to twenty stories away.

Homura looked around and instantly felt queasy. She had no fear of heights, considering her incredible athletic and magical skill; rather, this place seemed all too familiar to her. The half-evening light cast an eerie glow on the city, and she could've sworn she heard laughing, a low, scratchy, mirthless cackle that pressed on her eyes and ears and made her throat burn with anxiety. The small scrapes of her memory formed a shape in the darkening grey sky, a monstrous, deliriously spinning shape.

Walpurgisnacht.

She stopped dead in her tracks and refused to move, her stomach lurching as if recalling all those days, all those times when she had felt the terrifying rush of wind and debris surrounding her, enveloping her, until she barely had the strength to raise her left arm and taunt fate again. Madoka, Madoka, had she really saved Madoka? Was Madoka a name, a person, a goddess, a memory, a fabrication?

She turned away from him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She hid behind a sheet of shining raven hair, her tears getting caught like wet crystals in the lengthy ends.

"Homura…"

She tightened her grip on the red bow of her uniform, fighting to hold back her sobs. She could hear him taking steps toward her, his well-worn boots appearing in the corner of her eye.

"Don't come any closer." His footsteps stopped, and she took this opportunity to turn away from him. She had to get away as fast as possible, make him forget this ever happened, leave him in utter confusion so that the next time they saw each other, they wouldn't even give each other a second glance. She leapt toward the edge of the building, fully intending to rush off rooftop by rooftop, a graceful parkour.

"Homura, wait!"

What? What did he want, what was he thinking, wouldn't he stand there in amazement? She turned around quickly and felt a solid impact, dizzying and heavy. There he was. Her vision blurred, and she saw a combination of colors and shapes, felt a shock as she landed steady on her feet, heard a scream as she just barely saw a hand in the scope of her dazed eyesight, and was that… was that a flash of pink?

"Homu-!" A gasp.

"_**Madoka!**_"

She had jumped over the edge, her desperate fingers searching, searching for that warmth and comfort, her mind a jumble, eyes barely seeing, instinct aflame.

The blur slowed to a stop. The ground was no longer rushing toward her, and she was suspended in midair. Her vision filled up with darkening fright when she noticed his rough hand sandwiched between hers, her pale knuckles still paler as they held his entire weight. His eyes were wide and shiny and wrought with disbelief. She gasped, watching as one last remaining salty droplet flowed from her cheek, twinkled, and landed on his disheveled hair.

"Jo… han."

She pulled the both of them up, floating higher on the magic coursing through her body, landing softly and quietly back on the rooftop. His body felt heavy, and his knees were shaking. He wouldn't let go of her, immediately wrapping his weakened arms around her waist.

"Homura," he murmured. She could feel his breath tickling her ear. "You finally said my name. I'm so happy."

This was too much. She wiggled out of his grip and sunk to the pavement, her legs weak against the weight of her memories and the instability of her conjured heels.

"You were really cool, Homura. You saved me."

She hadn't the strength to look at his face at that moment, but she knew that he was smiling at her, that same warm and genuine smile she knew so well, the smile that ate up decades worth of timelines, thousands of days of endings and perpetuation.

"Stop." She doubted he heard her whispering. "You're not her."

"I'm not who…?" he asked, gently as possible.

"Ma—" She was choking. "Madoka." She was afraid, her hands wrapped around her head, her fingers interweaving with the bright red ribbon she wore so proudly in her hair.

"Your best friend?"

She gulped and nodded. She continued to stare at the wall next to her, anywhere but in his direction. "Why did you come after me? You could have died if I didn't save you."

"I didn't know you could…" He struggled to find a word for it. "They were beautiful," he finally said.

"What?"

"Your wings. They're beautiful. They really… suit you."

She sighed a long and heavy sigh. She had to give up and give in. She had to get closer to him. She _wanted_ to. Leaning back, she took a good, long look at the sky, which was almost black by now, and the starlight had begun to peek through the layer of city smog. _Madoka_, she prayed. _Was this your doing?_

The wind brushed her face, sweeping her wild, loose hair behind her, tugging at her ribbon gently. The breeze's caress was warm; it was smiling. _No. But I believe in him_.

_Should I believe in him too?_

There was barely a whisper in reply. _That's up to you, Homura_. The breath petered out to a low hum and died away softly as falling rose petals.

That's right. She still had her best friend.

"Johan?"

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry."

She still had her best friend, but she had a smile to protect once again.


End file.
